Collateral
by Dark Mousy
Summary: A young Mary is given to Dante as collateral until her father can pay his exorbitant debt. Slowly but surely, Dante begins to wonder if her father dumped her on him as more than a sex toy and whether she is as innocent as she seems. AU – Dante/Lady/Vergil
1. Collateral

_Pre-Story-Author's-Note: This an 'alternate universe' story. That means things aren't exactly as they are in the game. For instance, the Mary/Lady we know is not met the same way as she is in the game. Vergil's still hanging about. Dante's still cool._

_This story is rated 'M' for future risqué scenes. If you don't approve, then please don't read. :) I warned you. If you do approve, then please read and enjoy. Thanks for visiting!_

**Chapter One**

"Yeah, you know what? That's no fuckin' surprise."

Dante was getting a headache already. It was too early in the morning to have to listen to the same shit over and over again, and he wished he'd heard it on the phone instead. That, at least, he could hang up on. It was a little hard to do the same when the man was standing in front of him and not showing even the slightest tinge of fear or intimidation.

That's what bothered him the most. He was used to people being afraid of him. This guy, though about the same height as he was, was built like a beanpole with a head so bald that the morning sun reflected off it. Never mind the huge and glaring scar that was only accentuated by the shadows cast, but still pretty damn bald. And dressed a little bit too much like a priest, which unnerved him just the slightest.

He and the Church didn't have that fond of a relationship.

The morning, at least, had started off decently. There was food in the fridge – a surprise. Bacon, even. And bacon was a little hard to come by these days, though he thought he'd reward himself for a recent and rather painful job. His coat needed to be mended – again. And a few of his weapons were a little banged up, but no worse for the wear.

He'd woken up that morning with a good sense of what the day would hold. That was, in his book, the start of a good day. Never mind that the start of a good day usually was a beer (which he was sorely in need of) but the bacon had done a decent job of replacing it. And, the start of a good day (and the start of what he thought _this_ day would be) was getting money that was owed to him.

Wrong.

As soon as the tentative knock came on his door he knew he was not going to get paid. Again. And there was little he hated more than liars. After he told the man so, just the slightest tinge of ill feeling entered the guy's strange, mismatched eyes. One of them even looked a little glazed, on the side of the scars, as if he were blind. Well, there went his depth perception. That still didn't give him an excuse to 'perceive' him as a nice guy. People thought he was, but he wasn't. He didn't do charity. He'd done it enough in his life to realize that if he wanted to eat, he needed to do jobs that paid. Saving humanity for the good of it was going to do _him_ little good in the long run.

And the guy in front of him had been a case of mistaken charity work. The case had been dire, sure, and he'd been a 'nice guy' and stepped in to help. He'd stepped in, though, at the promise of getting paid. The guy couldn't possibly have scrounged up the money then and the time was pressing…people were dying. So Dante had taken it on trust, killed the demons, and gave his price, and waited.

And waited.

And waited.

And now he was sitting at his office desk, glancing with tired eyes at the man in front of him who was calmly explaining exactly _why_ he couldn't pay him. Again.

To be fair, Dante wasn't going to pass up a situation where innocent people were dying and no one was around to help. But those sorts of things were simple – a shot here, a sword slice there – stick a fork in him, he's done. What the man in front of him – Arkham - had asked of him was a little more than a run-of-the-mill job and it had taken a lot out of him. He'd lived too many years to be a forgive-and-forget sort of guy and he was also running disastrously low on money. At the point where it was a hit-or-miss as to whether he'd have food in the fridge, he had a problem.

Besides, if he were called out for more jobs, he'd need more ammo. More ammo meant more money. And money was not what he had.

What he did have was an empty hand where he would have liked a beer to be and an ever-growing headache.

"So, as you can see, my trip to India will be inevitable-"

"Wait, what?" Dante shook his head, silver strands moving this way and that as he tried to clear his mind. He'd been too busy paying attention to himself to listen to a word that Arkham was saying. It was all going to be the same drabble, anyway. 'I can't pay you' and the like. Maybe he'd even been saying it in different languages. Who gave a fuck?

"I have a…means by which I can attain the sum there."

The man's way of speaking also annoyed Dante. He was used to simple English, simple phrases, and to-the-point words. Arkham seemed to speak with a flourish and Dante couldn't quite tell if the accent was real or faked.

"…In India." Dante's tone was flat, and no-nonsense.

"Yes," Arkham said – without explaining any further.

"Alright, hold on. You come in here at eight in the fucking morning and instead of my payment you talk my ear off about how you _don't_ have the money and _now_ you expect me to believe that going to India is going to solve all your problems?"

"Yes."

Dante paused, a little off-put by the short answer. "No go. You're planning to skip town on me, and I can tell you buddy…" at this point, he was leaning back in his chair, putting his arms behind his head in an inherently-male and insolent fashion, "that I'm really not happy to hear it."

"I assumed that you would say something of the sort. I suppose it does seem like I am trying to 'skirt' my way out of paying your debt, and-"

"You're damn right it seems that way," Dante interrupted.

"…And I do agree that the payment was owed to you in a more timely fashion. However, seeing as that is not the case, should you want your payment at all my trip to India must be allowed."

Dante gave a low groan, and closed his eyes. Headache. Headache. Fuckin' fuck fuck fuck…

"…And since it also seems that you do not believe I will return, I've decided to present you with collateral."

"Collateral?" Dante didn't even bother opening his eyes. "What the fuck is that?"

He heard Arkham's footsteps go to the door, and the creak of the old wood on its failing hinges. Soon enough, he heard Arkham's footsteps, followed by much lighter ones.

"My daughter."

Had the Hunter's eyes been open, they would have been blinking. In order to start that chain of events, he had to open them first. The man was standing, stark-still as ever, and next to him stood a short, curvy girl with chopped-off hair that looked like a lawnmower had been taken to it and the same, mismatched eyes as her father. The fact that she was staring forward was reason enough to look – she had apprehension in her eyes, but not necessarily fear. That was new.

She looked like she was on her way to school. Her uniform skirt reached about mid-thigh and her white shirt was buttoned primly, with a deep green tie lacing underneath the folded collar. Some pin on it glinted in the sunlight, but he didn't bother to make out what it was. Honors, by the looks of it (he inferred this only because of its torch-like shape). How old was she?

"Uh….huh." Dante's tone with his words gave away his frustration, and his eyes did not immediately cut back to Arkham as he spoke. "…Yeah, _that_ isn't gonna make payment."

"I did not expect it to," Arkham replied calmly, without looking down to his daughter. "I decided that, if it suits you, I could leave her here. As insurance for my return."

"I don't babysit."

"None necessary. I assure you she is in full health and in full use of her faculties." Only then did the girl seem to cringe, though it was not in her face so much as the tightening of her body. "Do with her as you like, if you choose to keep her."

"Seems like you don't really give a fuck." Dante's eyes were fixated on her, studying her movements. She seemed unfazed by the fact that she was being bartered as property.

"I assure you that my daughter is the most important thing in the world to me," yet another calm reply. "In order to care for her, I do need to get my debts settled. And seeing as you need assurance that I will, in fact, pay you – I thought that you would accept insurance."

"Once again, I don't babysit."

"Not necessary, again," he replied. "She can cook, clean," as this was said, he cast a wary eye around the office, "and she is pure."

It was obvious what the last word implied. So, the man was _knowingly_ offering his daughter up to a demon as _insurance?_

"I don't have much of a choice, do I." Same, flat tone.

"Not if you do not want to get paid, no." Same, calm tone.

There were a few moments of pregnant silence, where the Hunter's ice-blue eyes studied the father first, and then the daughter. After what seemed like ages, his eyes remained fixated on her.

"What's your name?"

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_**Author's Note: **__Hope you enjoyed the first chapter. Please please please read and review! I love reviews. Even if it's a short 'I liked it!' I'll be happy. No flame, please. Those make me sad._


	2. Garbage

**Chapter Two**

**Garbage**

_I don't baby-sit_, he'd said. Now it looked like he was going to be fucking baby-sitting.

The girl had said nothing when he'd asked for her name. She looked timid, almost, though countless years had taught him that a woman's body spoke far more than her face. And her body was rigid, contained – her hands forming small fists at her sides. She didn't give the impression, at least to him, of a sweet little demure slave just plopped straight into his office.

Dante watched her carefully as her gaze ran everywhere but him, eyeing the trophies that littered his walls without any hint of trepidation or fear. She neatly avoided even glancing in his direction, though the Devil Arm behind him certainly drew the attention of her father. Her eyes, though mismatched in a strange way, were clear with that usual sheen of intelligence – or arrogance.

He was surprised, to say the least. He couldn't quite figure her out.

"So, your father offers you up as my personal maid and you've got nothin' to say?"

Her father had left only moments ago, the two men having nothing more to say to each other. Dante was forced to recognize a sign of payment when he saw one. And though Arkham knew damn well that she was just collateral, he'd decided to acquiesce. If the man was so damned intent on making sure Dante didn't hunt him down for payment, he would learn to deal with it.

Besides, how much trouble could one little girl possibly be?

"Even seemed to offer you up for sex, am I right?" Dante's voice was amiable, slightly curious. His hands were folded neatly behind his head in his usual insolent fashion, both booted feet planted firmly on his desk. The muscles of his arms flexed beneath the short-sleeved shirt he wore, which was the same black as her hair. He'd gone casual that day, not expecting any company, and had settled for a worn pair of Diesel jeans. Still, he looked no less intimidating – she seemed to feel the same way, as she tightened somewhat when he barely moved his arm.

"You gonna give me a name, Lady? Maybe 'Girl' would be better." He was obviously trying to get something – anything – out of her. The situation was awkward enough as it was and even with years of skill with both women and war he still had no tolerance for awkward situations. They plain didn't sit well with him. And especially not where little girls were concerned. And for being little, she sure had curves. He couldn't help but notice the decent size of her breasts beneath the starched shirt she wore, nor the creamy skin covering her thi-…were those scars? The more he looked, the more he saw small scars gracing what would have otherwise been flawless thighs – and one that marred the bridge of her nose, directly between her eyes. Maybe 'marred' wasn't the right word. It was somehow…cute.

"Stop staring."

They were the first words to come from her, and a slow smile graced Dante's features – a bit of a victorious one. Staring had served two purposes. (A), make her uncomfortable, and (B), notice those curves. He was already damned, so it wasn't such a big deal just to notice how well endowed she was for her age. Speaking of which…well, not speaking, he realized belatedly, but whatever…

"Good to know you aren't mute. How old are you, Lady?"

"Old enough, if you're calling me that."

He wondered what she meant by that, and though she did not see the curiosity in his blue-eyed gaze she seemed to feel it all the same. Still, she did not say anything after that. Rather, she finally moved…and moved to one of the many piled trash bags near his appallingly purple couch – everyone thought he went dumpster diving for that one, but he'd paid a pretty penny for it. She picked one up, then two, and he was too damn astonished to say much as she struggled with the doorknob and went outside with them.

When she came back in, she still failed to meet his gaze. It almost seemed inevitable that she moved to the remaining bags – and it was at that point he rose from his desk. She froze momentarily, only to pick up another two and again head for the door.

"Wait a fucking second," Dante's voice was filled with an insolent sort of humor, but tinged with an underlying agitation. "What are you doing?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Her reply could have been taken as sarcastic, save for the absolutely flat tone she used.

"…Yeah, of course it is. You know what I meant."

"No, I didn't." She turned with the trash bags, eyes still down turned. She was forced to stop only when he stood in her way, blocking the doorway she'd left open for an easier access to the outside dumpster. "Please move."

"So, that's it, huh? You're going to stay here and be a pain in my ass."

"I hardly think getting rid of your filth is a pain."

Dante was taken aback by her words – well, not just her recent ones. Her entire demeanor had changed the moment her father had left. Her body seemed strung like a bow, quivering almost – as if at any moment, she was going to break. Every word she said nearly sounded as if it came through clenched teeth. She was forcing herself to stay calm.

He almost liked it. There were buttons to press here. And while he shouldn't be having fun – there was still the horrible situation of a girl being dumped on him hanging over his proverbial head (and maybe not only the one with his brain in it) – it was always hard for him not to find fun in any situation. He'd lived too fucking long to take life seriously anymore.

"Fine, you want to play maid?" She said nothing to this either, and only moved to skirt around him. What was _up_ with this chick? "Dishes are in the kitchen. Don't have a vacuum, but I have a broom. Office could use some cleaning, too."

It was clear his words had an effect on her – he could hear the plastic of the bags creak when her wrists tightened around them. Still, he couldn't even sense fear on the girl – that alone was strange enough. He was a hell of a lot taller than she was – he nearly filled a fucking doorway. Women swooned over him, men stepped out of his way. Demons sure as hell pissed themselves when they so much as heard his _name_.

"Move," she said.

_Did she just…no. Clearly, my ears doth deceive me._

"Alright, Lady, you're actually starting to get on me. I know your dad dumped you here, and it's gotta suck, but I'm not all-too happy to have to take care of a gi-"

"Move," she repeated. This time, her command was slightly more insistent. Her voice quivered, even, like the bubbles collecting at the bottom of the pan just before the water breaks into a full-out boil. He was forced to look at only the top of her head, where silky black strands ended in choppy chunks that framed – what he'd only seen earlier – a heart-shaped face. Still, she refused to look him straight in the face. And while he was a normally easy-going guy, she was somehow getting under his skin. He'd barely known her for twenty minutes.

How long did her father say he was going to be gone again?

"Ok, we're going to set a few ground ru-"

Instead of repeating the command, she finally skirted past him and reached the doorway. He was clearly not expecting his speed, as her body tightened when he slammed his arm against the open doorframe and blocked her exit. She had not even seen him _move_.

She murmured something under her breath, which would have been inaudible to most ears. His, however, were quite different.

"What's that? Afraid I didn't hear you quite clearly." This time, the arrogant tone had returned to his voice in a schizophrenic sort of way. How was she pulling all this shit out of him? Fuck – give him demons any day. He'd rather have had demons flooding his damn office. Hundreds of them, even. Anything but this.

"I said, fuck you." Her words were hardly above a whisper, said directly to her feet clad all-too-cliché in penny loafers and knee-high socks.

"We gonna play that game, babe?" At this point, he eased away from the door much like a cat would when the mouse it had previously played with was only twitching now. "You want to fuck me, like your daddy said?"

This was said, of course, to her back as she clearly ignored him en route to the dumpster.

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_**Author's Note: **__Really hope you enjoyed this second chapter! Please please please please PLEASE review! Any review is appreciated. Tell me what you'd like to see! And please have patience with me…I'm trying my best!! And I'll continue to try my best for you!_


	3. Hey There, Girlie

**Chapter Three**

**Hey There, Girlie**

Seeing as she never returned, his question remained unanswered. The very realization that she had yet to return to his humble abode hit him about three minutes later than it should have – partly due to him having to piss like a racehorse and partly due to him scrounging around his office for a pack of cigarettes. He was so unused to having company that he would have continued to easily forget about her very existence had the front door not been left open.

The Marlboro in his mouth (fuck any of the other pansy-ass brands of cigarettes like Camel, he always said) was already down to the filter before a loud, four-lettered expletive escaped his throat.

_How the hell did I just forget about her?_

Still in a measure of shock, Dante was slow to throw on his red overcoat and any buckles necessary to ensure that there were holsters for Ebony and Ivory. He decided to forego a sword that day for decorum (and the fact that it was before noon, which served no purpose at all but a strange one in his mind) and only paused to light another cigarette before he was out the door.

_Wait…why am I even chasing after this chick?_

This thought did produce a pause for his heavy footsteps, right at the threshold of his doorway. The tail of his coat was slow to settle with the wind he had forced into the cloth by his high movement speed. His options were being weighed. He could waste the energy to go after her, and try and drag her sorry ass back. She did, technically, belong to him…didn't she? Yes, she did. So that gave him all the right he needed, didn't it? All he needed to do was reiterate this fact to her, and she would hang her choppy-haired little head and follow him home.

Right. Plan of action.

Now to go about finding her.

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No money, a school uniform, and the worst part of the city's slums. All three made for a bad combination, one that Mary knew well of. Any girl with her head in the right place knew that the city's slums were the worst possible place to be, even with an adult. She _was_ an adult though – so there was a difference.

She did not know what she had been planning when she initially did not return to the Devil May Cry. It was a strange name for a business when she reflected on it, even a business of his sort. Her father had given her no delusions about whose company she would be staying in when he sat her down and calmly but firmly told her what he would be doing with her. What _he_ would be doing with _her_ – bartering her off like a piece of meat while he went halfway around the world to find a certain man. She had not asked questions, but he had seen one plainly in her mind.

"_The only man who can kill Dante," _he'd said.

After her short conversation with the Devil Hunter, she was beginning to think that she would like to meet this man. Never in her life had she encountered someone so basely arrogant before, or so blatantly offensive…she had clearly heard the last question he had posed to her when she took out the last bags of trash and that had been _it_. She no longer cared if her father was depending on her to keep the Devil Hunter busy. She would find a way to sustain herself for however long she needed to.

"Give you a job?" The old woman at the noodle house, whose face was as wrinkled as her old apron, shook her spoon at the girl. "You come in here begging like you have no money, and you're in a private school uniform! You can't pull the wool over my eyes, little girl. Go home."

"But-"

"Get on out of here. There's no job." The old woman huffed, took a step back, and then slammed the back door in Mary's face.

That was how it had been for the past hour. Her father had not left her a key to return home, and instructions to every servant in the house that no matter what condition she returned in, if she begged to be let in, they were to leave her stranded. That was all that she could expect from her father.

And as for the Devil Hunter…did he really expect her to just drop her clothes for him? If she didn't, would he rape her? He looked like the type who took what he wanted by force. And it seemed, from the time that she had been in there, that he wanted her.

Why did that send a shiver down her spine?

Mary kicked the side of the building. At this rate, her pride would take an enormous hit if she returned to the shop. Would that be like a white flag for her? A take-me, I'm-yours kind of thing? She did not know, and she was not going to try out. Someone in town was bound to give her a job, and…she'd figure out something for a place to stay. Fuck her father, and fuck the Devil Hunter – they could both rot in hell for making the deal over her head. She was not going to become some piece of ass for her father to use to placate his male enemies.

She did not even know what had transpired between her father and Dante. Only that whatever it was had been bad, and her father had gone to look for that man. And it was surprising enough, as it was, that her father feared Dante so much. He was only a man. A prolific hunter, by the trophies on his walls (she had missed nothing when she had first entered, though it appeared as if she had been doing nothing but staring at the ground,) but nothing more than that. Her father did not scare easily. So what wa-…

"Hey there, girlie." Mary's attention was immediately thrown to the right, where a man had just spoken. He was tall – maybe six foot even – and wearing a sports jacket over a worn pair of jeans. His face was what caught her attention more than the tone of her voice, as it was one of _those_ faces that seemed to be instinctively etched into every human's DNA of a pure douche bag.

Saying nothing, she walked on. He grabbed her arm and pulled. Hard. Falling into him, she immediately began kicking and screaming, and bit the hand which fell over her mouth until she tasted blood. She was no weakling – she had hunted devils before. But devils never scared her. Devil _men_, however, did.

As if on cue, another two men appeared from the same alleyway she had just passed. Seemingly to add insult to injury one grabbed her flailing arms and pressed them to her body, effectively sandwiching her between themselves and the smell of their cologne and sweat was enough to make her want to vomit. The blood she tasted in her mouth was bitter and warm, and she could even taste the cologne on there too and knew that he was one of those men who applied the liquid into his hands first before patting it all over his stinking body. It tasted as bad as it smelled, but the only other taste she found was anger and she had it in spades.

Currently, it was doing her little good.

"Whoa, whoa, there little lady. What's all the fighting about? You don't even know what we want from you."

"Ah, I think she has an idea, Roy." The man in front of her, the one clasping her arms, spoke straight into her face. She spit in it.

"Oh shit! Did you see that?" The third man in their gang, currently to their right, began laughing hysterically. "She fuckin' got you, man! Shit!"

"I'm going to get you for that," he said softly – but knew well enough that he could not let go of her arms to wipe the spit dribbling from his cheek.

"Calm down, Campbell. She just hasn't heard our proposition yet. Maybe she'll calm down then," the man – Roy – said. His lips were at the shell of her ear, and she bucked when he licked it. It was the middle of the fucking day – where was everyone? Why wasn't anyone helping her? "This is what's going to happen. We heard you well enough over there, saying you're homeless and you need a job. Well, little girlie, that is something that we can provide for you. It goes like this – you turn tricks for us, and we take half of what you make. In return, we take care of you. _I _take care of you. How does that sound?"

"How does that sound?" she finally said, after a short pause in which she had not struggled. Campbell had already had one of his hands clamped on her wrists while the other had trailed up her thigh, and she had hardly moved. "I don't think so."

She moved quickly, and used the fact that he had a looser grip on her wrists to wrench them out of his grasp. One elbow was drawn back immediately, aimed at an angle to hit exactly where she heard it hit – a curse and a crunch told her that she had broken Roy's nose. The third man moved in at the same time she kicked back, landing Roy straight in the crotch and kneed forward, hoping to do the same with Campbell. Roy staggered back, Campbell rushed forward.

When he hit his shoulder to her stomach, it felt like a freight train. She went down fast, even though she managed to throw her leg up and nick Campbell under the chin. At least there was the satisfying sound of his teeth clacking together (painfully, she hoped) and when she heard him yell and saw blood pouring from his mouth she knew she had done more damage than that. He spit out a piece of something bloody on her chest, and she writhed when the blood and saliva helped to lubricate it down to fall into her shirt and between her breasts.

It was a piece of his tongue.

"We're going to do this the hard way, huh?" Roy roughly pushed Campbell off to be on top of her, forcing his hands into her shirt and spreading them apart – popping all the buttons at once to leave her in only her bra. The bloodied piece of flesh on her skin flew off in the process, landing somewhere near her – but anywhere was better than _on_ her, even given the situation. "We gonna do this the hard way, you little bitch? You're going to be mine now, and you're going to make _lots_ of money for me…"

"I think…you got something that belongs to me, pal."

This voice, Mary recognized immediately. She felt her face go flush and did not know why, but her body went completely still. She felt more than saw Roy's head turn and knew the immediate moment when fist connected with bone. His weight was sent flying off her violently, and her body even turned slightly with the force. His body went smashing into the brick wall of the alley, something that seemed inhumanely possible – even for someone of Dante's height and build. While she had been unable to see Dante from behind Roy's body, the punch itself had seemed so _effortless_…

A few more rustling sounds, and she heard two more bodies fall to the ground, before a man in red filled her vision.

_Dante…_

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_**Author's Note:**__I'm sorry for the lack of timely updates, so I gave a longer chapter here to make up for it as much as I could! Longer and more frequent updates coming soon. Please please please please review! You don't know how much I appreciate them. Pretty-pretty-please review?_


	4. Just Wait Till We Get Home

**Chapter Four**

**Just Wait Till We Get Home**

"You're a real pain in the ass, you know that?" Despite his words, there was something very close to the mildest form of concern etched into his tone. The three men were out cold – one with a broken jaw, two with broken ribs and all three with some part of their body bleeding. They alley they were in afforded them privacy, and anyone walking by who cast more than a single glance into the alley took one look at Dante's size and kept walking.

It was difficult, but Dante was trying to look everywhere but her. Brick, brick, a dumpster, old cardboard hobo home, a dead cat – anywhere but the image of her still lying on the pavement, shirt spread open and her simple black bra rising and falling rapidly with her breathing. She wore no laces, no fringe. There was not even a brand he could see on the bra strap – and what was the norm these days? Veronica's Asscrack?

_Whatever_, he thought. _Her bra isn't important._

Though they stood in silence for a long while, the sounds of the city surrounded them. Cars honked, sped, and sputtered in the roadway directly behind them. High heels clacked on the sidewalk outside the alley. People were practically _everywhere_, and no one had helped her.

He knew, without being an egoist, that she was seconds away from getting gang raped. But no thank you, no nothing. Just a wide-eyed stare in his direction with the same deep breaths in and out, giving the look that her ribs were expanding and shrinking. She looked like a trapped animal, edging herself in the corner as a last ditch effort for protection.

Her eyes, though, were devoid of fear. There was shock there, a little of what he would have expected, but there was mostly anger. Indignation. He could see the different emotions swimming beneath the surface of her bi-colored eyes and wondered how old this girl's soul was. Where were the tears? The screaming? The one guy had had a bloody mouth before Dante had even touched him, which meant that she had given them a run for their money. What kind of schoolgirl fights first, and then thinks and cries later?

_Her, apparently._

"Lady? You hear me?" Dante kneeled down, hoping to get into her level. While she had been looking at him she certainly had not _seen_ him, and almost looked at him as if she thought he were one of the bastards that just attacked her. But when he finally got over himself enough to look at her, it was easy to see that her shirt was a goner. Buttons rested in the grime around her, the same grime he was (very lightly) kneeling in. Her waist was slimmer than he had expected, nd it was eas to tell even though her skirt had been hiked up to the small of her waist, bringing the hem far up her thighs.

From his angle, Dante could see slightly what lay under the shadows beneath her skirt. Not panties like any normal girl, but shorts. _Shorts._ He did not know why it was so funny but he could not help the slight laugh that escaped him then. What a process that would have been – they would have had to try and tear off the strong-looking fabric of her skirt, _then_ tear off her shorts and finally her panties. And he had no doubt that she was a girl who wore all three layers.

Virgin, for sure.

"What's so god-damned funny."

Her words brought him out of his own thoughts, as his cold blue gaze immediately found hers. Despite her words the width of her eyes had changed only somewhat, and her breathing was only now beginning to rapidly rise and fall again. Was it because of him now? He was not sure, but he would place a good amount of money on it.

_Great. She thinks I was laughing at her._

Instead of answering her, Dante began to shrug out of his coat. She recoiled at the sudden movement, much like a cornered animal still. Mentally and physically sighing, Dante finished removing his coat before he held it out to her with one hand, the length of it trailing slightly on the dirty asphalt and causing a subtle cringe from him.

She didn't take it.

"Put this on," he said.

"No."

_Is she serious?_

"Why not?" His voice was exasperated, and his patience was wearing thin. Hadn't he just saved her from a really bad afternoon?

"I don't need anything from you," she practically spat her words, and he noticed – with some dismay – that the wide-eyed look in her eyes was being replaced by that abject apathy that had landed her in this situation in the first place. He had to watch himself around this attitude, he knew. She was unpredictable with it.

"Lady, just take the damned coat and let's get the fuck out of here."

"No." Already she was struggling to stand – and that was exactly what she was doing. Struggling. She was favoring her right leg and when he finally looked down to it (and most of it was bared to him, with her skirt position,) he noticed the bruise blossoming on her knee. It was not all he noticed, but he knew that the time was more than inopportune for noticing how well endowed she was in every place a woman needed to be. And she was not even a woman yet.

_Which makes you a pervert, Dante._ He had to give himself his own reality-check, and it helped to put some things into perspective. Like her unknown age. Her school uniform. Their current situation that did not allow for him to get horny.

But he let her try and stand. He stood with her, though at a much faster rate, and waited. She tried once, twice, and finally on the third managed to stand somewhat erect before her bruised knee buckled beneath her and she toppled over, arms flailing. He caught one in time, pulling her quickly so she more or less landed against him. She recoiled immediately, but he caught her arm again. Again she pulled, using her small hands against his right bicep as leverage to push herself away. He heard something rip and saw it was the long sleeve to her school uniform blouse, and it was bloody at the back of her shoulder where she had most likely been pushed earlier.

Holding only her sleeve once she scrambled away, Dante sighed and thought that he could really use a cigarette and a beer. Maybe a few. And as much as he wanted to leave her there, he knew he couldn't. She was, somehow, his responsibility.

He was beginning to think that maybe he could have done without the money in the first place, which would have left him in debt but without a struggling schoolgirl on his hands. And even though he managed to hold her against the wall long enough to tie her hands with her shirt sleeve iand/i throw her arms in his coat, she never stopped. Not until he slung her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

"Wha-… put me down!" She beat her two collective fists on the backs of his thighs, but it just felt like a massage to him. A few people gave them a second glance as he walked down the sidewalk, but he saw no one pull out their phones to call the police. Good sign. They just looked like an eager couple to the rest of the world, maybe.

"Calm the fuck down or I'm going to do it for you." Dante's words were serious, though he was getting amusement out of the situation. She would have turned into even more of a hellion if she had seen the smug grin on his face.

"Put me down!!" She bit at the tie on her wrists, trying to pull the knot he made to no avail. He'd have to cut it to get it off. And he was beginning to think that maybe he liked her tied up a little more than untied.

"Oh, I'll put you down babe. Just wait till we get home."

It was the way he said it that caused Mary to let out a scream of indignation that was soon lost to the public behind the closed doors of Devil May Cry.

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_**Author's Note: **__I tried to make this update in a much timelier manner, so I hope people are pleased! I decided to answer a few reviews, but don't forget that I appreciate EVERY SINGLE ONE!! Please continue to support me by your reviews. They make me very, very happy._

_Inujak: no, I never saw Dante smoke. But it didn't surprise me either, and like the story said, I think he would only smoke Marlboros. I don't smoke myself, but it seems like something he would do. ___

_KuteInsanity: Your review made my day! And yes, there will be VxL coming up._

_Lord Europe: Your criticism of my update time is why this update is up faster! So thank you._

_And to everyone else, thank you so much! Please review this chapter!_


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